Even his beloved Idaho.
Nevada was in pain, but he managed a smile. The sight of her after all this time, even a shadow double who'd just shot him, was enough to fill him with joy.
Maybe her name was Ohadi instead of Idaho. Maybe she was devoted to the dark purposes of Acirema the Rellik instead of the bright resolve of America the Beautiful. Maybe she felt nothing for him, not even hatred.
But at least he could drink in the sight of her face. At least he could pretend in his few remaining moments that the precious original had returned to him.
At least he could imagine--or was it more than imagination--that her hand was warm when she touched his eyelids. When she drew them shut.
He could dream that she was his warm-blooded Idaho, hiding all this time to prepare for the threat of
